Blythe Goes to Therapy
by Hopedruid
Summary: Blythe needs to confide something in her trusted therapist. But can she find the confidence to do so?


Truth be told, Blythe was feeling a little bit nervous. She knew that her therapist could be trusted. She had been seeing him for a few months now, and honestly, he had been really nice and very helpful in a lot of ways. Still, she was going to show a hidden part of herself she hadn't shared with anyone, not even her dad./p

"It was really scary actually. And Blythe was never scared.

She walked into her therapist's office with trepidation. Her therapist was a man, probably somewhere in his mid to late thirties  
"but possibly in his early forties by Blythe's estimation, he had a unique kind of attractiveness that was only there if you looked hard enough.  
"Welcome Blythe. Sit down and relax. You look very tense today." He said. He had a European accent Blythe thought, but impossible  
to trace. Being the daughter of a pilot she had heard alot of accents. It seemed to have some Scandinavian, German  
and French mixed together. He was exceptionally well dressed and had a cultured aura.  
She sat down across from the Therapist and felt a tingling in her palms. She had never felt so nervous.

"Thanks. I guess I am kind of nervous. I have something big I want to tell you." Blythe said, biting her lip unconsciously.

"Go ahead Blythe you can tell me anything. You have nothing to fear from me." He said. Polite as always.

"I guess...I mean...what I am trying to say is-" Blythe starterd blabbing. Her Therpist gave her a look, both reassuring/p  
and scolding./p

"Relax, breathe. When you are ready just blurt it out. Once it is over with you will feel a lot better." Her Therapist said.  
Blythe followed his advice. Sure enough after a few minutes, she felt ready./p

"I like girls." She said before she could stop herself./p  
The Therapists reaction was bored, clinical. Then he switched to a more lighthearted amusement.

"Blythe my dear, there is nothing wrong with that. Sexual orientation is a part of us like any other. We can't choose/p

"our eye color or the color of our skin or any other genetic part of ourselves. God, or Mother Nature or however you want to define it, gives these things to us. We only determine what we do with them." The Therapist said.

"Thanks I thought you would be understanding...I like boys too you know, I just like girls way more. It was really confusing  
for a while cause I would get way more crushes on girls then boys but I would still like boys and I didn't know who I am or what I was or why I felt like this." Blythe said. She felt happy that the weight was off her chest and she finally told somebody. She felt lighter than air.

"That is common among bisexuals. It is an unfortunate by product of our cultures distaste towards ambiguity. While/p  
everyone's experinces are different, bisexuals often have the hardest time finding themselves. People can understand  
homosexuality, even if they hate it. Many, even more tolerant people, can not understand bisexuality. Thus your confusion."  
The Therapist said.

"Yeah. There was one more thing I wanted to talk about." Blythe said./p  
"Go ahead, we have plenty more time in our session." The Therapist said. He looked so kindly then, so trustworthy. She  
could definitly open up to him.  
"I have been having...thoughts. Stuff that I don't think is normal. In fact I am sure there not." Blythe says in a careful  
measured tone./p  
"Oh?" The Therapist asks.  
"Yeah. When I think of cute girls or guys I start thinking of...what I would like to do with them you know?" Blythe said./p

"That is all perfectly normal for a girl your age. We can discuss masturbation if you wish. I understand that the state of sexual education in this country is abysmal." The Therapist said.

"No, it's not really about that. I understand everything but the fantasies I have. There strange. I know it and it worries me." Blythe said.  
"Strange is a very subjective term." the Theraphist said.  
"Subjective? Sorry I failed my last vocabulary test." Blythe said.  
"It means it varies from person to person. What one thinks is strange might be a perfectly ordinary fantasy for someone  
"else." The Therapsist said.

"The things I imagine, that pop into my head. I think most people would agree that it was strange. Maybe everyone." Blythe/p  
"What society thinks shouldn't influence you. There is nothing wrong with being strange. It only means you are excpetional." the Therapist said./p  
"You don't understand. Here, I will show you some of my drawings. This is what I think about." Blythe said. She opened up her back pack and put a couple notebooks and a notepad on his desk.

The Therapist looked through the books with a clinical, analytic pace. Blythe thought she saw...recognition in his eyes. He was silent and absorberd everything."Have you shown anyone else these?" The Therapist asked.  
"No. No one but you." Blythe said.

"Good. It was right of you to come to me. To trust me with this. I can help you. You shall continue as if you never showed me this. Next session we will begin hypnosis to help you come to terms with all this. For your safety I should keep these drawings and you should not draw anymore. If you must you can draw them while we are having a session. If you have anymore, dispose of them when you get home." The Therpist said

"Ok." Blythe said. She knew she could trust him. That he would keep her safe.

"I have worked with others who have your predilections. You are far from alone. I worked with a girl much like you, when I first got into therapy. Now she is a successful detective in Miami. A young man I worked with now has a wife and two young daughters. You can be happy and fulfilled and live a relatively normal life." The Therapist said.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would do without your support." Blythe said, already back to her usual cheerful self.

"It is nothing. Only my job, responsibility and great privilege to help people grow. Now then, unfortunately, we are out of time. And we wouldn't want your father to miss you for too long." He said.

"Thanks again, sir. See you next week." Blythe said with a smile, as she bounced up to the older man and gave him a brief hug, before leaving.

Hannibal Lector looked back at the notebooks. They were full of images of graphic torture and murder. For a middle school girl she was an exceptional artist. She would do well for herself once he taught her what to do. stored the drawings in her patient file and locked the cabinent. Blythe was his last appointment and he was knocking off early today.

He was meeting a friend for dinner.

Author's Note: Yes that was Blythe Baxter from Littlest pet shop confiding her homicidal urges to Hannibal Lector. One thing to note is that my Lector is more Mads Mikkelsen then Anthony idea came from two headcanons I made while watching the first few episodes of LPS with a friend of mine. Namely that Blythe was a serial killer or bisexual. Plucked out of nowhere from my riffing. It eventually became both and a bit of a running joke. 


End file.
